


Like Father Like Son.

by Old_Friends_Bookends



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Old_Friends_Bookends/pseuds/Old_Friends_Bookends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft worries about Sherlock. Constantly. He is willing to do anything to protect his little brother.</p><p>[Angsty. Incest. Apologies.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Father Like Son.

Mycroft was thirteen, but he wasn't like any other child his age. He was a genius; his IQ was unheard of and he was a member of mensa since the age of two. There was only a certain amount of people that Mycroft could stand to be around, and that group got even smaller for those who matched his intellect. The mind numbing boredom that he suffered through on a daily basis was only defeated by his little brother. Sherlock Cassius Holmes was a different bread entirely. Although he was a genius too, he took after their mothers side. He had dark, silky, unruly curls; whereas, Mycroft's hair was an auburn, ginger colour that seemed baby fine. Sherlock's features were all prominent; his dominating cheekbones and fluid lips. Mycroft was jealous that he was left with a plump frame chubby cheeks. He felt like the runt of the litter whereas his younger brother was a Greek God. And he knew exactly how to use his innocence look, his genius intellect, his confident disposition.

He was sat in the sun room pretending to read Shakespeares King Lear, he liked the thought of blindness ruining people. When he heard seven year old Sherlock squeal with joy. Groaning he buried himself further into the chair in some feeble attempt to be swallowed whole. That squeal was never good, it meant only one thing: father was home. Grudgingly he slumped out of his chair and padded to the entrance hall of the manor. Father had his hand awkwardly on Sherlock's shoulder in greeting. Mycroft had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Father had never wanted children, he only had Mycroft to continue the family name. Sherlock was an accident, and an unfortunate one at that. Siger often told Mycroft that he wondered if Sherlock was even his. Father beamed when he saw Mycroft and handed Sherlock a new chemistry set, this one was for University students. Sherlock squeaked and ran off, probably to the far end of the garden to test the strength of acids on various plants. 

'Mycroft. My boy, how you have grown' Siger's voice boomed as he beckoned the youngster close. Reluctantly, Mycroft walked into the awaiting arms. His father would often work away and that's how he liked it. He was the man of the house, the one to get Sherlock ready for anything. Hi mother was too drugged up to notice anything. It was clear, Violet was married to Siger for her looks. Mycroft hated this. He hated his father sneaking into his room to say goodnight. He hated having to sit on his fathers knee. And he hated himself for wishing it on someone else. He could handle it, his brother couldn't. 'Come to my office, son. I have a gift for you too.' Dutifully, Mycroft followed. He half heartedly hoped that there would be a gift. But he knew this was coming; his father had been away for two weeks and now he was hungry. 

Siger sat down in his big leather chair and motioned his son closer. Mycroft locked the door and gently placed himself on the end of his fathers leg. He really was getting too big for this. Father ran his hands through Mycroft's hair, his breath tickled Mycroft's neck and made his tummy turn. 'My beautiful boy' He crooned into Mycroft's ear. 'How I've missed you. Have you missed me?' Mycroft nodded, even though it was a complete and utter lie. 'I think you should show me, Mycie. Make me feel better. Prove just how much you've missed me.' Silently Mycroft slipped to his knees which gained a huge smile from his father. 'Good boy! Oh Mycie you'll make me very happy.' From this height the bulge in his fathers trousers was obvious. Siger gently tugged down his zipper and released his erection from the straining confines of his underwear. He let out a groan as the air touched it. Swallowing thickly at the sight of the pre-ejaculate, Mycroft leaned forward and darted out his tongue to lick the head like he was trained to do. His father grunted in response, his head flopped back against the chair and his eyes drooped closed. Mycroft took a chance and traced the bulging vein from tip to base and back up, tentatively stopping to lap up at the prick. 'Now, boy. Or I'll punish you' Siger breathed out, hard and desperate. Mycroft opened his mouth and Siger forced the prick into his mouth. Siger's hand gripped his sons head to keep it in place. He set a grueling pace, slamming his cock into the back of Mycrofts's throat; it took everything Mycroft had to not gag at the taste. Gagging resulted in punishment, so did talking back, and spitting. Mycroft had learnt those lessons earlier. 

The taller man was grunting and panting above him. His hand suddenly gripped hard in Mycroft's hair, signaling his orgasm was close. Hot tears were threatening to spill over Mycroft's cheeks, but he wouldn't let them. He glanced out of the window and saw his seven year old brother as happy as a lamb, collecting soil samples from mothers flowers. With a guttural groan, Siger came down his sons throat. It took all he he had to swallow the salty mixture and he felt a bit dribble down his chin. He wiped that away and tucked his father back up. Panting Siger mumbled, 'Well done, Mycie. You must have really missed me.' Mycroft climbed out from under the desk and pecked his fathers cheek. 'Thank you father. I have to good study now.' Edging his way to the door, Mycroft plastered a smile on his face. 'Ah! Good boy! You'll have my job in no time!' Siger chuckled and set about doing his work. Mycroft closed the door behind him and leant against it. This is why he puts up with his father. For his brothers happiness. For Sherlock.


End file.
